


[art] a softer killer

by pprfaith, reena_jenkins



Series: create / detonate [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Softer World-style graphics, F/M, Fanart, Female Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>James. She should call him James. He laughs, smiles, jokes. He kisses Tasha. He is not the Soldier anymore.<br/>Big Brother, perhaps. A softer killer.</i>
</p><p>OR  </p><p>A collection of graphics designed to tear your heart out. Inspired by <span class="u">create / detonate</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	[art] a softer killer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [create / detonate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375343) by [pprfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins). 
  * Inspired by [create / detonate: a fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528422) by [pprfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins). 



> These graphics were heavily inspired by the format of _a softer world_. We've fancast Kate Beckinsale as the face of Tasha Stark. Most of the text was pulled from  create / detonate, so pprfaith gets so much writer credit; however, there are a few quotes from other sources included in these graphics. Give us a shoutout in the comments if you can ID the non-fic words, okay?

 

 

You built me a shell. It didn't keep the world out.

 

It's tempting, so tempting, to let the fire spread.

 

Half the files are mission logs. Targets. Locations. Weapons.

 

I read once that scars mean you survived. Something did, at any rate. Something did.

 

It's okay, it's okay. Only a dream. Only a nightmare. You said that, in your sleep.

 

We survived. And this, this is what we get for not knowing when to stay dead.

 

You tried to kill me, did kill me in so many ways, and I still miss you. How pathetic is that?

 

I miss your hand on the back of my neck, your deep, soothing voice, the way you smiled.

 

Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.

 

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.

 

Your hands on my scarred body are gentle as a lover's, and so, so careful.

 

Don't want the skin. I like the metal. No point in hiding.

 

Maybe that's why we get along. I came out of a lab, too.

 

Breathe, slowly. In and out, don't lose it now.

 

Oh god. There's two of them now.

 

So far, this has all been theoretical. In thirty minutes, it won't be.

 

Does it count as a savior complex if you saved my life twenty years too late?

 

What the hell kind of name is "Brock", anyway? He sounds like a fratboy douchenozzle.

 

You do not touch me freely, without warning. Not anymore.

 

The window shows a fake view, of a city he knew, long ago. Yesterday, it feels like.

 

I dream of finding you, as young and mad and wonderful as you ever were, as alive as I am.

 

You were supposed to make me feel at home. But you missed the mark by a mile.

 

Sometimes, in those dreams where you survived, we run away to a place without war.

 

Jesus, that system is antiquated. Like, the nineties want their setup back. No USB. Fuck me.

 

There is a face behind the glass. And under his eyelids, you can see him dreaming.

 

Breath normally, sight, fire. Breathe normally, sight, fire. Breathe normally, sight, fire.

 

The best part about dying is how alive you feel when it doesn't happen.

 

The prodigy. Hair like fire and dead eyes. The biggest monster a little girl could ever become.

 

I imagine you bending a bit closer, imagine latching my teeth onto your throat and ripping it out, killing you in a spray of blood.

 

Love is weakness, is a word, is nothing. Love is random attachment.

 

The job is still dirty, is still bloody, is still a horror she lives with, but the choice to do it is hers.

 

Do not betray the HYDRA, because the HYDRA is many and it will find you.

 

Special is bad. It means something set apart, different. Means something that draws attention.

 

That's the problem with loving someone. One of you has to die first.

 

You look at what your hands have build, at what you have created. You are loud like Icarus must have been proud of his wings.

 

It wasn't you. It wasn't you. You weren't even home inside your skull.

 

Hope is a terrible thing when you're at the end of your rope.

 

Not for the first time, I wish you'd left me in the ice.

 

A polite knock, wake up, death is here!

 

You are a weapon, and weapons are wielded.

 

Your lungs seize with remembered asthma-pain and your eyes burn and you hate and have no idea who.

 

I thought how nice it would be to forget, killing people by the thousands and not giving a flying fuck.

 

Machines and weapons have no names and no genders. They are functional. You think of yourself as a weapon.

 

I'm all spare parts metal and mechanics all the way down.

 

What's it like, to live in the shadow of a legend? Well, you don't get sunburn.

 

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

 

You are beautiful, dangerous and deadly, a weapon powered by your own heart.

 

All your broken pieces fit into mine, red and stark and beautiful.

 

The world breaks everyone and afterwards many are stronger at the broken places.

 

High heels and brass knuckles, a bespoke killer at your beck and call.

 

In our family portrait, we looked pretty happy. Let's play pretend, act like it comes naturally.

 

It's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true. No-one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

 

It's not about you. It's not about us. It's about legacy.

 

The freedom of the mind is the beginning of all other freedoms.

 

Once, all the tricks you knew were the ones I taught you. But it's been a long time since then.

 

You invited me for war, but now we're making popcorn, and watching movies.

 

Good boy! There is a reason I love you to unreasonable heights.

 

Damage is like an earthquake. Terrible the first time around, but the aftershocks are worse.

 

There's a time to pray and a time to fight. Anything's a weapon if you're holding it right.

 

It's all that's keeping me alive. So, I figure, hey, I'm okay with the poison.

 

Patron saint of brainwashed assassins everywhere. Make a wish and I'll castrate someone for you.

 

I wish I'd been the one to tell you. You have nothing to be ashamed of. These are not your sins.

 

This is a program. It's able to predict people. It's Minority Report with less Tom Cruise and more dead people.

 

We all have open wounds. There is no shame in that.

 

Two kinds of people have a purpose: heroes, and weapons.

 

I know you better now. I know the balance of power.

 

Avenge. Revenge. It all means vengeance, anyway.

 

If you stick your fingers in your ears and squeeze your eyes shut tight, the nightmares can't find you.

 

 

Sorry, I know how much it hurts when someone cuts into your bones.

 

I was the gun, not the trigger finger.

**Author's Note:**

> I made an additional three graphics at 11:57 pm, on August 20th, mere minutes before the project was due.... just so we'd have an even 70 altogether.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [create / detonate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375343) by [pprfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




End file.
